Latest news with #Makcik
The Sun
6 days ago
- Entertainment
- The Sun
Kindness is the new superpower
ALRIGHT, listen up, my dearies – Makcik is about to serve you a hot pot of truth, simmered with sass, marinated in empathy and seasoned with just enough cili padi to make your soul itch. We are talking about bullying – in schools, offices, family WhatsApp groups, even in the JPN queue where someone cuts in like their nenek sponsored the tiles. Let's be clear: bullying is not 'normal' and it is not 'part of growing up'. It is not some 'rite of passage' where you come out stronger, wiser and with a six-pack of character. Please-lah. If bullying really built character, half of us would be walking around with Nobel Prizes and emotional abs. The school jungle: Where empathy goes to die In school, you would think children are learning algebra, sejarah and how to dodge flying erasers. But nowadays, some are also majoring in advanced psychological torture. You have 12-year-olds plotting emotional takedowns better than telenovela villains. Poor Alia just wants to eat her sandwich in peace but noooo – here comes some pint-sized dictator asking her: 'Eh, why you so fat-ah? Later the chair patah!' Excuse me Diana, if her sitting breaks the chair, your IQ breaks the floor. Bullying used to need a playground. Now all it needs is WiFi and bad manners. Instagram captions throwing jabs, group chats full of silent judgement and TikToks that try too hard. Honestly, Makcik thinks some of them need less screen time and more soul time. Where are the adults, you ask? Oh, just casually saying, 'Kids will be kids'. No, Cikgu Rosmah, kids will be monsters if we don't teach them otherwise. You want empathy in schools? Start by banning those tired phrases like 'man up' or 'stop crying like a girl'. And while you are at it, remove every motivational poster that says 'what doesn't kill you makes you stronger' because, darling, some people are barely surviving, not levelling up in a video game. You want a real value-add curriculum? Teach kids how to say sorry properly, how to stand up for someone without needing applause and how to ask 'Are you okay?' without making it sound like gossip foreplay. Corporate life: Where bullies wear blazers and toss you under the bus – with a smile Meet Corporate Karen, queen of condescension. She doesn't yell – no. She uses that sweet, syrupy fake concern: 'Just worried about your workload. You seem... overwhelmed.' Meanwhile, she is forwarding your typo to the entire department and tagging it as #JustSaying. Or that Boss Bully who thinks empathy is a luxury item, like truffle oil. Instead, they operate on fear, deadlines and the ancient leadership mantra: 'I suffered, so you must too.' Bravo, Encik Dino. That is not leadership, that is just generational trauma with a swivel chair. And please-lah, spare us the recycled HR drama: 'We take bullying seriously.' Oh, really? Then why is the bully still sitting pretty with a new title, flexing in meetings like they own the company while the actual victim gets downgraded to a desk next to the toilet – complete with leaking pipe, broken fan and that one lizard that refuses to die? Don't insult our intelligence. This is not a drama on TV3; this is real life where victims eat lunch alone in the surau corridor and the bully gets invited to makan-makan with upper management like they are some sort of national treasure. Stop gaslighting people with your policies and posters. No one feels safe, everyone is traumatised and the pantry microwave still does not work. You want real change? Start by moving the bully, not the person crying into their sambal ikan bilis sandwich during lunch break. You want a productive, thriving team? One word: empathy. You want loyalty, motivation, people showing up before 9am without caffeine rage? Again, empathy. Empathy means seeing your colleague as a human, not just a cog in your KPI machine. It means asking 'How are you?' and actually bracing for an honest answer, not praying they say 'fine' so you can go back to pretending to work on your spreadsheet. Bullies don't need power; they need therapy You know what is wild? Most bullies are just emotionally constipated people with too much time and too little soul-searching. They don't need a promotion; they need a hug, a mirror and maybe five years of therapy with someone who charges by the hour and does not tolerate nonsense. You want to end bullying? Stop treating it like a personality quirk: 'Oh, that is just how he is.' No, Aunty Margaret, how he is... is a problem. Start calling it what it is: emotional violence. Not drama. Not boys-being-boys. Not 'she's too sensitive'. If anything, being sensitive is a strength. You know what is easy? Insulting someone. You know what is hard? Actually feeling their pain and choosing not to add to it. Empathy is bada**, okay? It is gangster in the best way. It is walking into a room and making people feel safe, not scared. It is the opposite of power-tripping; it is power-sharing. And best of all? It never goes out of style. Makcik's final sermon (before my teh tarik gets cold) To all the students, workers, bosses, teachers, uncles, aunties, baristas and rogue WhatsApp admins – choose empathy. Not because it is soft but because it is strong. Because it is the only thing that makes life less of a battleground and more of a community. And to all the bullies, past and present – may your nasi lemak always come with soggy cucumbers and sambal that doesn't pedas. May your WiFi lag at 98% download. May your Tupperware always go missing and your slippers mysteriously switch feet outside the surau. You don't scare us anymore. We see through your nonsense. And we are coming for you with the full might of emotionally intelligent, gloriously kind humans who refuse to let cruelty be normal. So go forth anak-anak and aunties of the world. Sprinkle empathy like MSG. Be loud with your kindness. Be gloriously, unashamedly compassionate because in a world full of bullies, being soft is the new superpower. Sekian, Makcik logging out with a side-eye that could curdle susu pekat, a glare that's HR-proof and a hot flash that puts any corporate gaslighting to shame.
The Sun
22-07-2025
- General
- The Sun
From dial-up to glow-up
AH, the generation gap. That mystical space-time distortion where logic disappears, sarcasm kena tangkap polis and someone is always yelling 'Where's the remote?!' while sitting on it like it is a throne. Gather the whole Malaysian family and suddenly it is like shoving five drama channels into one Astro decoder. One atuk is reliving Konfrontasi, one niece is crying because her TikTok only got 12 likes and someone is trying to connect to the WiFi like it is a life-support machine. Let Makcik break it down for you – generation by generation – with cili api, no-filter truth and proper birth years so no one can pretend: 'Eh? Bukan I.' Yes, you. Especially you. Baby boomers (1946–1964): Tupperware tacticians and WhatsApp warriors Boomers are Malaysia's OG superheroes. They survived rationing, curfews, 14 general elections and three different government logos – all while reusing the same ice cream tub for sambal since 1986. They don't trust GPS – they are the GPS. 'Nak ke pasar? Senang je. Belok kanan lepas rumah arwah Mak Timah, pastu nampak pokok jambu, belok kiri. Kalau sampai longkang, dah salah.' They believe Tiger Balm can cure heartbreak, gout and GST trauma. But try teaching them how to scan QR codes – suddenly become blur, pening and password goes missing. Favourite quote: 'Zaman kami dulu, semua boleh settle dengan rotan dan kuih kapit.' Mood: Forwarded many times. Believe it or die. Generation X (1965–1980): The silent sufferers with slipper accuracy Ah, Gen X. The forgotten middle child of the generation family tree. This is Makcik's generation. We survived without Google, got our gossip from Majalah URTV and played mix tapes we painstakingly recorded off the radio – complete with DJ interruptions. We were the first computer users – the computers that went peeeoooww kwekkkk krak krak when logging into the internet. One email took 10 minutes and made the house sound like a spaceship docking. Now? We are the default tech support, chauffeur, emergency contact and family group admin. Sandwiched between cranky Boomers and emotionally complex Gen Zs. Still using Hotmail, won't throw out that one perfectly functional Nokia phone and still not sure how we ended up paying for everything. Anthem: 'Let me finish this email, then I'll fix the toilet, water the plants, pay bills and scream into a pillow.' Catchphrase: 'We didn't talk about mental health; we had chores and teh o ais limau.' Millennials (1981–1996): High hopes, low bank balance and premium burnout These poor souls were told to chase the dream. Now they are chasing Grab drivers because 'alamat tak betul'. They grew up during Y2K, Britney and dial-up – and now, they cry every time Shopee has a sale because... money mana? They have turned their trauma into Twitter threads, their side hustle into a full-time grind and straight into burnout. Still nostalgic about RM1 nasi lemak and waiting to afford property that is not beside a monsoon drain. Mood: Tired but aesthetic. Catchphrase: 'I just want to be a plant. No thoughts, just sunlight.' Generation Z (1997–2012): Emotionally fluent, logically fried Some were born before the internet exploded, some during the WiFi boom but all raised by TikTok and fuelled by Bubble Tea. These children are chronically online and emotionally aware but also cannot fill up a LHDN borang without spiralling. They use words like 'vibe check' and 'toxic' in conversations with their cat. They know their attachment style, birth chart and Spotify Wrapped but not their IC number. Ask them to make a phone call? Panic attack. Ask them to speak in public? Immediate respiratory collapse. But they will post a two-minute crying video on TikTok with perfect lighting and Comic Sans captions. Mantra: 'Protect your peace. Block your uncle.' Weakness: Slow WiFi, clingy boomers and being tagged in a 2009 Facebook photo. Generation Alpha (2013 onwards): The touchscreen tyrants in Crocs Tiny hands. Mega attitude. These are the iPad generals of the household. Don't be fooled by their innocent Crocs. These children are trained negotiators with volume levels that can reset your nervous system. They don't 'watch' television. They command it: 'Skip ad, change channel, play next.' Your remote? They have changed the settings. Your Netflix? Now in Spanish. Their tantrums? Full surround sound, complete with special effects. Their attention span? Shorter than the Astro ad skip button. YouTube is their religion. Google is their teacher. And if you dare say 'no more tablet', they will look at you like you just cancelled Raya. Catchphrase: 'I'm not sleepy!' while snoring in mid-scream. Power move: Accidentally ordering McDonald's and blaming Siri. So, what now, Malaysia? Peace treaty or sambal belacan showdown? Boomers are yelling, Gen X is groaning, Millennials are spiralling, Gen Z is ghosting and Alpha is screaming like a banshee possessed by Spongebob. But deep down, there is love – a messy, spicy, passive-aggressive type of love. It is the Malaysian kind – the 'nah, eat this' and 'you've gained weight but I bought your favourite kuih' type. Want peace? Here is the deal: - Boomers: Stop forwarding videos with 'Sila sebarkan' like it is wartime propaganda. - Gen X: Change your password from '12345678'. Even your cat knows it. - Millennials: You don't need to turn every crisis into a Canva quote. Just nap. - Gen Z: Not everyone is gaslighting you. Some people are just socially awkward. - Alpha: Sit down. Be quiet. Eat the nuggets. It is still chicken. And when all else fails? Turn off the WiFi. Like moth to a flame, they will all gather in the living room, blinking in confusion and ready to talk like it is 1995.
The Sun
15-07-2025
- Automotive
- The Sun
Navigating Myvi drifts, flying Rempits
YOU have not truly tasted the flavour of Malaysia until you have survived rush hour on the Federal Highway, dodged a Myvi whose driver thinks he is Lewis Hamilton and made it to the mamak in one piece – physically, at least; mentally... maybe slightly traumatised. Ah, the Myvi – our local legend. The only car that claims to do 140km/h on paper but somehow feels like it is breaking the sound barrier. Small size, big dreams. The way they zip through three lanes like they are late for a kenduri – Makcik can't help but admire the confidence – even if half the time her heart is doing a HIIT workout in the driver's seat. And don't get Makcik started on motorbikes. OMG. They appear out of nowhere, like hungry mosquitoes at a Raya open house. One second jalan clear, the next – vroom – a mat rempit sumbat his bike between your side mirror and your patience. Sometimes Makcik wonders if these boys got their teleportation licence from the Road Transport Department – the way they slip through traffic feels like a magic show at a pasar malam. ' Sekarang you see them, now you don't!' Signal lights: Decorative item only Malaysian drivers also share a national hobby – not using signal lights. Why bother, kan? Signals are for people who have trust issues. Real Malaysians? We communicate spiritually. The car in front drifts slightly to the right – aiyoh, maybe turning right- lah. But wait, now it's back to the left – oh, suddenly parking. Guess -lah, bro, guess! Makcik sometimes feels like she is playing psychic bingo on the road. 'Number 17 turning? Eh, salah. Number 52 braking? Alamak, betul.' And if they do use the signal, it is usually after they have turned – like a surprise plot twist in a Malay drama. ' Eh, tengok, dia masuk simpang! – Eh, baru signal? Wah, suspense betul.' Roundabouts: Local version of Russian roulette The humble roundabout transforms into an arena of hope, panic and silent prayer. Step one: Enter bravely. Step two: Circle once, twice... realise you have missed the exit. Step three: Nearly collide with a Kancil that does not believe in yielding. Step four: Exit anywhere and figure it out later. It is practically cardio for the soul. Makcik sometimes gets dizzy – but hey, free spinning class. Rain: Suddenly, everyone forgets how to drive When hujan turun, Malaysian drivers suddenly remember God – because half of them forget how to drive, the other half drive faster. The road becomes a free-for-all. Wipers on full speed, motorbikes hiding under bridges but the Myvi? Still speeding, still fearless. ' Banjir? Tak apa, Myvi can float- lah.' Legendary. And when floods happen? Time to upgrade car photo shoot. 'New profile picture with flood background.' Ada orang ready with drone, TikTok live – the works! Malaysia boleh! National pastime: Cucuk belakang Tailgating is basically Malaysia's unofficial sport. You are cruising happily, then suddenly there is a Hilux so close Makcik can see what brand of tissue box he has got at the back. High beam flashing, horn blaring – like he is herding lembu. Relax- lah, abang. My old Saga cannot grow wings just because you are angry. But, Makcik respects your optimism. Parking: Creative expression Malaysians don't just park; we express ourselves. On the line, half on the kerb, double-parked, even triple-parked, with a number left on the dashboard – though they may not answer. Like modern art: confusing to look at, impossible to understand but somehow still there. And the classic excuse: 'Just five minutes- lah.' Everyone's five minutes is at least twenty. It is like 'Malaysian standard time', but for parking. Emergency lane: Shortcut for the brave Some drivers treat emergency lanes like their private VIP expressway. Ambulance? Bomba? Tepi sikit-lah bro, I am in a hurry here. And when the abang polis finally stops them? ' Aiyoh, tak tau-lah tak boleh.' Eh, tak tau? Confirm dapat A+ in acting school. Traffic lights: Loose guideline Red means stop – but in Malaysia, it also means: 'Quick-lah, last minute!' Yellow? For most, it means slow down. For Malaysian drivers, it means speed up or risk missing the chance of a lifetime. And green? Green is a free-for-all – siapa berani, dia jalan dulu. Horn symphony Horns in Malaysia are not just for danger. They are our local language. Short beep: ' Oi, cepat sikit-lah!' Long beep: ' Wey, you blind-ah?!' Friendly double beep: ' Macha, I see you!' Angry repeated beep: ' Cilaka, move- lah!' Sometimes, one lorry starts honking and suddenly the whole road orchestra joins in – like a flash mob, but with more anger. Yet, somehow... we survive. Despite the sudden brakes, surprise lane changes, motorbikes slicing through traffic like satay sticks and the occasional driver applying makeup at 80kph – somehow, we all still get where we are going. Late, maybe, but still alive. So, next time you see a Myvi flying past, a Perodua Alza half-parked on a roundabout or abang on a superbike weaving like an ular, don't get too angry. Remember, in Malaysia, the road is not just jalan raya; it is our own live-action comedy, daily reality show, and sometimes, a test of patience. And Makcik? Still marinated, still lempang with love, still shouting: ' Oi, signal- lah!' from behind the wheel. Stay safe on the road, sayang – and keep your cool and sense of humour. You'll need it.
Malay Mail
09-07-2025
- General
- Malay Mail
Planning for profit, not people: The quiet violence destroying our neighbourhoods — Shahridan Faiez
JULY 9 — The scene is heartbreakingly familiar. A neighbourhood, planted and nurtured over two or three decades, begins to truly flourish. The trees once no taller than a toddler now stretch wide and strong, offering shade and songbirds. Children run freely between playgrounds and front porches. The Makcik selling nasi lemak at the street corner knows your name, the Uncle bas-sekolah gives out free rides to the local team, the neighbourhood surau offers bubur lambuk to all during Ramadan, and evening walks are filled with nods, smiles, and conversations. In these spaces, something precious is built: community. Parks, schools, and kedai runcit become more than infrastructure — they are the beating heart of a living, breathing neighbourhood. They are where trust is formed, where our children learn the meaning of belonging, and where everyday Malaysians create beauty out of ordinary life. Then, one day, it's all ripped apart. Without real consultation or care, the local authorities approve yet another high-rise development. The kind that promises 'progress' but delivers overcrowding, gridlock, and grey concrete. No one asks whether the neighbourhood can absorb the extra traffic, the extra rubbish, the stress on schools and drains. Trees are felled to widen roads. Parks are sacrificed for parking lots. And the result? More and bigger roads are built to handle the traffic — a short-sighted and ultimately futile solution. A general view of the Kampung Sungai Baru in Kuala Lumpur April 26, 2025. — Picture by Yusof Mat Isa The greenery vanishes, sidewalks disappear, and the parks where children once played are replaced with asphalt and flyovers. Where once people lingered, they now rush indoors. And with that, something quietly dies. The laughter of children fades. The neighbourly greetings stop. People retreat into gated enclaves, disconnected from one another. It is a kind of slow, quiet violence — done not with weapons, but with planning approvals and bulldozers. As neighbourhoods lose their liveability, governments end up shouldering higher costs to police rising crime, manage worsening pollution, and repair the social fragmentation caused by poor planning. At the same time, the deterioration in quality of life depresses overall land and property values, making these areas less attractive to investors and undermining long-term economic growth. This is not accidental. It is systemic. It is the direct result of bad urban planning — carried out by people who do not care because they are not accountable. They don't have to live with the outcomes of their bad decisions. Planners and politicians approve projects based on short-term economic gains, often with little regard for environmental sustainability or community wellbeing. The result is a city built for profit, not for people. It doesn't have to be this way. Our laws already have provisions to prevent this. The Town and Country Planning Act 1976 (Act 172) mandates that planning decisions must promote orderly development and protect the wellbeing of communities. The Local Government Act gives councils the authority — and the responsibility — to ensure that development is aligned with the public interest. Traffic, environmental and social impact assessments are supposed to safeguard exactly the kind of liveability we are losing. Yet these are too often sidestepped, treated as token checkboxes or manipulated to serve the interest of profit. And this leads to a fundamental question: how can the government claim to pursue the vision of Madani — one rooted in compassion, balance and sustainability — if it is unable to prevent this transgressive model of development that hollows out our neighbourhoods? We need to promote a new model for development. One that is based on clearly defined positive outcomes. We need to start with a different question for every proposed development: Will this make our neighbourhood more liveable? If it erodes community, increases car dependence, and destroys the green and social spaces we rely on — then it must be rejected. But if it nurtures human connection, improves air quality, strengthens learning environments, and restores the human scale of our cities — then it deserves our full support. Because liveability is not a luxury. It is a right. And we must demand a city that puts people, not profit, at its heart. * Dr Shahridan Faiez is a development practitioner working on the intersection of finance and sustainable development. Formerly with the World Bank, he has experience across 20+ countries partnering with farmers, tribal leaders, and policymakers to transform public investments into concrete outcomes. ** This is the personal opinion of the writer or publication and does not necessarily represent the views of Malay Mail.
The Sun
01-07-2025
- Entertainment
- The Sun
Malaysia's haunted holidays
SO you want a holiday, huh? But not just any holiday. No. You don't want the usual makan-makan, tidur (sleeping at) hotel, selfie depan (in front of) the Petronas towers. You want something edgy, something spooky, something to make your ancestors raise their eyebrows and ask: 'Anak ni tak cukup kasih sayang ke (This child does not have enough love?)'. Well congrats, sayang, you have just booked yourself on a Dark Tourism Malaysia Tour – brought to you by poor life choices and haunted regrets. First pit stop: Penang War Museum. Yes, war museum. Apparently, walking through underground torture tunnels where people were once interrogated and executed is fun now. Makcik's knees are already shaking and I haven't even reached the first bunker. But you? You're there with your camera, TikTok filter and one brain cell shouting, 'Let's do the night tour!' Why not just tattoo 'Hantu (ghost), come get me' on your forehead?' Also, they say there are ghost sightings and screaming sounds. Of course, you think spirits have nowhere to go? That place is their last known address, okay? Ah, Kellie's Castle – where colonial dreams came to die and ghosts came to squat. Think of it as Scotland meets pontianak, with less whisky and more weird vibes. Let me tell you, only in Malaysia can you find a half-built Scottish castle in the middle of a Perak jungle and somehow people say: 'Wow! So romantic!' Romantic, my foot! The man who built it died before it was finished, probably because even the hantu told him, 'Tuan (Master), this is a bad idea.' Now you can walk through the empty halls and hear things whisper – could be the wind, regret or William Kellie-Smith still upset no one installed proper plumbing. Whichever way you spin it, Makcik says – don't go stripping down like you are in your own living room. The spirits here also got pride, okay? They may be dead but they are not blind! Batu Gajah Detention Centre? Aiyoh, don't get me started. Once a colonial detention facility – home to rebels, communists and anyone who looked at the British sideways. If those walls could talk, they would scream. Now? Half-forgotten and eerily quiet – great for Instagram if you like 'haunted chic'. Meanwhile, in the afterlife, one detainee's on a ghost walkie-talkie: 'Hello control, we've got teenagers doing TikTok transitions in solitary confinement. I got locked up for subversion, not viral content!' A lost, time-travelling tourist from the future shows up with GPS yelling: 'Siri, where's the nearest Starbucks?' And a ghost just facepalms and floats into the bushes. But anak, why you wanna go places like this? Is your life too peaceful? Is the air con in your house not spooky enough? Or is this just your way of saying: 'I want attention but make it supernatural'? Let's be honest – people love dark tourism not because we are historians but because we are nosy, bored and low-key masochists. We love being scared and watching horror films alone. We read crime novels at bedtime and some of us – yes, you – actually pay money to walk into abandoned places that smell like regret and mould. I swear, if Makcik could throw a slipper through Instagram, I would. Also, don't play-play with Malaysian hantu. Western ghosts? They float around looking sad in a wedding dress. Malaysian ghosts? Got backstory, purpose and attitude. You disturb them, they don't just whisper, 'boo'. They follow you home, finish your Milo, rearrange your furniture and sit on your chest at 3am while saying: 'Cakap, tak percaya tadi-kan?' So, please – if you visit: Don't mock, don't act brave, don't suddenly speak English like the ghost doesn't understand. Hantu pun bilingual, okay? Last, but not least, let's not forget the ethics. Dark tourism is not a playground. These places hold pain, history and suffering. You don't go to a war camp and say: 'OMG, aesthetic!' You go to reflect, to remember and to learn – not to pose like you are in a Zara ad, next to a torture cell. You don't get to turn someone else's pain into an Instagram reel with ghost-filter and hashtags like #hauntmewithyou. Takde adab langsung (No manners at all). Respect the space. Respect the stories. And no, don't sell pocong plushies in the gift shop. I don't care how 'cute' the marketing team thinks it is – Makcik bagi flying slipper terus. So... Should you go? Honestly? Yes. If you are ready – ready to learn, feel uncomfortable and ready to face history, colonialism and your own overconfidence – all while sweating in a haunted tunnel. But bring torchlight, proper shoes, some humility and minyak cap kapak – for reasons both spiritual and physical. And most importantly, anak: Don't simply say 'Takde apa pun...(There is nothing here....)' You say that and suddenly your phone battery drops from 90% to 2%. And you'll hear a voice say, 'Cakap lagi? (You want to repeat that?)' Next time you plan a trip, skip the beach, skip the malls and go where the air is still – where the walls remember, where your holiday photos don't smile but stare back. Now go. Explore. Learn. Suffer slightly. And when you come back, don't forget to mandi bunga (ritual flower bath) – standard operating procedure. Makcik out.
